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COFYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



ON HURLEY HILLS 



AND OTHER VERSE 



BY 
ELIAS D. SMITH 




BOSTON 

SHERMAN, FRENCH & COMPANY 

1911 






Copyright, 1911 
Sherman, French <S^ Company 



^ I. ^c 



C:c!.Aa*to8i)0 






TO 

THE MANY FRIENDS 

WHO IN YEARS PAST 
HAVE SO PATIENTLY BORNE 
WITH ME 



NOTA BENE 

These rhymes were written at various times 
in a busy life for my own pleasure. Yet a few 
friends have expressed a desire to see them gath- 
ered together, and I hope blame will not be 
heaped upon me, now that I have acceded to the 
request. 

A goodly proportion are re-union odes, read 
at the annual gatherings of the regiment to 
which I am proud to have belonged during the 
Civil War, the 14th Regt. N. J. Vols. 6th Corps. 

THE AUTHOR. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

ON HURLEY HILLS 1 

LITTLE BOY JACK 3 

HOPE 4 

THE LOITERER'S FAREWELL 5 

REGRET 6 

A FANCY FLIGHT 7 

THE SHORE LIGHT 8 

"THE WATER THAT SMOKES" 9 

cm BONO? 11 

HOREB 12 

A SEA SONG 14 

THE OLD AND THE NEW! 15 

THE MOUNTAIN TOP 16 

ANTICIPATION 17 

THE STONE STEPS OF CAPRI 18 

REVERIE 20 

A CHRISTMAS ODE 21 

A SUMMER IDYL 23 

SALT SEA SENSATIONS 25 

TO OUR SECRETARY 27 

TROUBLE IN THE FAR EAST 28 

THE SPIRIT OF MISSIONS 29 

THE PRINCE OF PEACE 31 

A SUITABLE NAME 34 

THE CHEERFUL GIVER 36 

MY VIS-A-VIS 37 

IGNIS FATUUS 39 

DRUMS AND BUGLES 43 



CONTENTS 

I PAGE 

CALL THE ROLL! 47 

WAITING MUSTER-OUT 49 

RETROSPECT 50 

FOLLOWING THE FLAG 53 

TO OUR OLD FRIEND 56 

IN MEMORIAM 60 

IN MEMORIAM 61 

THE MONOCACY FIGHT 63 

OPEQUAN 67 

IN EVERGREEN 69 

AFTER THE BATTLE 71 

PRIVATE M'GINN 74 

THE SIGNAL GUN 77 

DOWN THE COMING YEARS 80 



ON HURLEY HILLS 
AND OTHER VERSE 



ON HURLEY HILLS 

On Hurley hills, 
In beauty, day-break flushes fall; 
Night, fleeing, draws aside her pall ; 
The stars grow dim and from the East 
The first faint rays of light are cast 

In tender thrills 

On Hurley hills. 

On Hurley hills 
The morning sun slants long and low; 
The hill-tops quiver in the glow, 
The meadows hold their veil of mist. 
Soft web of pearl and amethyst 

From fairy mills 

On Hurley hills. 

On Hurley hills 
The sun sinks slowly in the west 
Flecking the flame-tinged mountain crest. 
Long shadows steal across the vales. 
The hollows darken — daylight fails 

With quiv'ring thrills 

On Hurley hills. 



[1] 



On Hurley hills 
The night comes down. The twinkling star 
Looks from its heavenly place afar — 
No sound is heard in earth or sky, 
But Heaven to Earth seems drawing nigh, 

And peace distils 

On Hurley hills. 



[3] 



LITTLE BOY JACK 

It was just a brief note that she hurriedly 
wrote 
And then on the wings of the lightning it 
sped, 
And stopped at my door. I soon read it o'er: 
"Our little boy Jack is dying," she said. 

This was all that she said, but I saw overhead 
The cloud that was hanging dark over our 
home. 

Nestling under the hill so peaceful and still, 
And the note meant only the one word 



By day and by night, in the darkness and light, 
Back to my home I hurriedly sped. 

And stood at my door. The struggle was 
o'er, 
"Our little boy Jack is dead," she said. 



[3] 



HOPE 

"The harp that once thro' Tara's halls 
The soul of music shed, 
Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls 

As if that soul were fled." — Thos. Moore. 

The hand that struck its chords, no more 

Shall wake its tones to life, 
Nor sweep its strings as oft before 

To sing of love or strife. 

The old-time minstrel's hand is still, 
The "soul of music" still remains; 

A gentler hand the harp shall thrill, 
And sing in sweeter strains. 



[*] 



THE LOITERER'S FAREWELL 

How can I bear to leave thee, 
One parting thought I give thee, 
On thy bright waters flowing, 
One fond last look bestowing. 

Farewell! Farewell, rock-set Mohonk. 

Swift have the hours been flying, 
Delights each day denying, 
Yet other pleasures bringing 
Round which my thoughts arc clinging. 
Farewell ! Farewell, rock-set Mohonk. 

From thy rock-mounted chalets 
We scan the outspread valleys. 
Or watch the sunset gleaming. 
With golden radiance streaming. 

Farewell! Farewell, rock-set Mohonk. 

Sweet are thy buds and flowers. 
Thy woodland walks and bowers. 
Balmy thy air — life giving — 
Life sure is here worth living. 

Farewell! Farewell, rock-set Mohonk. 

Though other scenes may woo me, 
No fairer spot comes to me ; 
When far away I'm straying. 
Still will my heart be saying 

Farewell! Farewell, rock-set Mohonk. 

[5] 



REGRET 

Along the gray sands two lovers were stray- 
ing 
Where sea-birds flew, 
Where on the low shore the bright waves were 
playing 
And the soft breezes blew. 
The sun sank low while the lovers were stray- 
ing 
And each to the other sweet secrets was saying 
While the soft breezes blew 
In the long, long ago. 

No more by the shore the lovers are straying. 

Heigh-ho ! Heigh-ho ! 
The years have crept on. Time makes no de- 
laying. 

Heigh-ho ! for the long ago ! 
Memory now on their heart strings is playing, 
Each still for the other is heard sadly saying, 

While the soft breezes blow, 

"Heigh-ho ! for the long ago." 



[6] 



A FANCY FLIGHT 

(Presentation Ode.) 

High up above the mountain top 

Where storm-clouds sweep and lightnings 

flash, 
Unmoved by storm or tempest blast, 
By tawny Tiber's rolling flood, 
See, floating in the ether there 
The eagles of the upper air ! 

By tawny Tiber's rolling flood 
Serene, in conscious majesty 
In bygone years a city stood 
And distant nations quaked to see 
'Neath circling walls or gilded dome 
The eagles of imperial Rome! 

In later years an empire rose 

And blazed its path through blood and smoke 

At beck of one whose iron will 

Made rulers tremble when he spoke. 

In myriad camps, in sunlight shone 

The eagles of Napoleon ! 

To-day the golden eagles swoop 
And drop to earth, to serve our end. 
They testify in slight degree 
How much we value you, old friend. 
For now, dear comrade, they shall prove 
The eagles of our constant love. 
[7] 



THE SHORE-LIGHT 

Bright spark on yon low-Wing shore! 'twixt 

me and thee 
Stretch troubled waves and many a hidden 

rock and shoal ; 
Yet b}^ thy friendly light I safely guide my 

way 
And peaceful steer my bark to its far-distant 

goal. 
So shall my life, forever cheered by Truth's 

bright ray 
Be led through darkest night to Love's eternal 

day. 



[8] 



"THE WATER THAT SMOKES" 

(Victoria Falls.) 

Majestic Thunder! Who, for ages gone 
Had'st poured thy cadence to the woods alone, 
To savage Kjaffir, or more savage beast, — 
A cadence that, once struck, has never ceased 
Since God first formed thy rugged fissures 

vast 
And down thy walls this flood of waters cast — 
Here, where thy mists have mounted to the 

sky 
To fall again upon the silent wood. 
Here, where for aeons past the white man's eye 
Had never broached the solemn solitude, — 
To these sequestered glades at last he came 
And heard with reverence thy eternal roar. 
Then, through the world he spread abroad thy 

fame 
That others too might worship and adore, 
Then laid his bands of steel and wove his arch 
Above thy boiling floods, to ape the bow 
That hangs in splendor on thy feathery brow. 
Hither we too have fared. We bare our heads 
Before thy majesty. We feel thy power. 
Above thy span the misty vapor spreads : 
Around, it falls a glittering, gem-like shower: 



[9] 



Beneath, it veils the secrets all thine own, 
And over all, there sounds thj thundering 
monotone ! 

Great God of Nature! Who in ages past 
Did'st rear this witness to Thy power so vast, 
Accept this tribute of these later days. 
Our weak attempt to voice a song of praise! 

Rhodesia, Africa. 



[10] 



cm BONO? 

For asons past it guarded well 
The mystery of its silent realm, 
Unbroken by the foot of man 
Unchallenged by a wandering helm. 

For ages past men strove to grasp 
The secret of the northern pole, 
And treasures vast of blood and gold 
Have been the constant, dreary toll. 

For men have wrestled, toiled and died. 
And ships upon an ice-bound track 
Have sailed away to tempt the prize; 
They sailed — but ah! they ne'er came back. 

And now 'tis gained. We read the tale 
Of wastes o'ercome, of barriers crossed ; 
Yet ever question in our hearts 
What gain can compensate the cost. 

Cui bono? This we sadly ask. 
What is the gain to human good? 
A brief applause, a transient fame 
'Gainst all these years of gold and blood. 



[11] 



HOREB 

I FLED to Horeb's mount 

Care-worn, perplexed — 
Great passions tore my soul, 
Fierce conflicts vexed — 
I fled to be alone and hide, apart 
From man, the storm that tore my weary 
heart. 

I heard the whirlwinds rush 

And felt the power 
Of Nature's mighty breath 
In my lone hour. 
But it was naught to that tempestuous sweep, 
The frenzied blast that stirred my inmost deep. 

The earthquake rent the hills. 

The mountains rocked. 
Earth moaned in agony. 
Beset and shocked. 
But fiercer than the earthquake's mighty roar 
The inward conflict that my bosom tore. 

I saw from riven rock 
The flames arise. 
And Heaven's blinding flash 
Fall from the skies. 
But stronger than the lightning's blasting fire 
Burned my own surging heart with furious ire. 
[13] 



These wonders passed from view 

And then I heard 
The "still small voice" of Love 
And knew my God. 
Upon my ear the gentle accents stole, 
I bowed in awe and Peace came to my soul. 



[13] 



A SEA SONG 

From over the sea 
There came a message of cheer to me. 
Mj loved one had sailed for an Eastern shore, 
Perchance I might never see her more, 
But out of the East came a message to me 

From over the sea ! 

Far over the sea ! 
My love, I know, is thinking of me. 
When the sun sinks low and the night comes 

down. 
Mantling the hilltop, the valley and town. 
In the stillness a thought is given to me 

Far over the sea ! 

From over the sea! 
Come back again, love, come back to me! 
Blow gently, ye gales, nor hinder the bark. 
As she steadily sails thro' sunshine and dark, 
Bearing so slowly my loved one to me 

From over the sea. 



[14] 



THE OLD AND THE NEW! 

(Sabbath, Jan. 1, 1882, New Year's Day.) 

We stand where the passing year, dying, 

Ended its sad lingering day ; 
And with all of its joys an'd its sorrows 

Passed with the midnight away. 
Great God, in the shade of Thy temple. 

Stand we with deep, holy fear, 
And we humbly confess our sad sinning 
In the Old Year! 

We stand where the coming year, smiling. 

Promises pleasure and peace. 
Bright Hope beckons onward, alluring; 

Fancy paints joys ne'er to cease. 
Great God, as we thus throng Thy temple, 

And in Thy presence appear, 
May we worthily honor and praise Thee 
In the New Year! 



[16] 



THE MOUNTAIN-TOP 

High up in air on rugged cliffs I stand, 
And view the mighty hills on every hand; 
The cloud-swept peaks uplift their lofty forms, 
Battling, for myriad years, with Winter's 

storms 
And Summer's gales. Yet when the golden 

sun, 
In changing bands of green and gray and dun. 
Strikes the broad slopes and flecks the wooded 

sides 
In whose cool bowers the forest flower hides. 
Or gilds the naked crest, the snow-topped 

height, 
The tumbling waterfall, with color bright, 
I see the mighty force of kindliness 
That touches roughness, but to soothe and 

bless. 
The loving power that conquers stalwart 

might. 
And bathes a world in gentleness and light; 
The tender leading by a childish hand 
Of man's rude nature I can understand. 



[16] 



ANTICIPATION 

(Philippians 1:23.) 

When wilt thou call, O Lord, 

And take me home? 
When shall I hear thy welcome voice 
Bidding my longing heart rejoice 

And saying, "Come?" 

I am not weary, Lord; 

Life here is light. 
Beyond desert have I been blest. 
Of every good am I possessed; 

My skies are bright. 

Nor am I sad, O Lord, 

Sick or heart-sore. 
Health, wealth and fame are mine ; 
Love's friendships round me twine; 

Earth gives no more. 

Yet would I go, O Lord, 

For Heaven is more to me. 

The lamp burns pale in noon-day sun; 

Earth's joys by Heaven's are outdone; 
I would Thy glory see. 



[17] 



THE STONE STEPS OF CAPRI 

(A Christmas Present.) 

The stone steps of Capri! what a funny 
capri-ce, 

How it carries the mind away 
To Italy's shores and the isles of old Greece, 

And the sunlight on Naples' blue bay. 

That an artist should sketch the old steps of 
Capri 

Was a truly artistic conceit ; 
Adorning the wall in my snug library 

It is hanging where we all can see it. 

Up the cold stony stair the wayfarers climb, 
In a clime that is sunny and fair; 

With bare legs and bare arms, a step at a time, 
To the summit their burdens they bear. 

They're a rising race, and truly, I ween, 
They seem, to the casual beholder, 

To toil with bold visage, and bolder mien. 
Up the serrated face of a boulder. 

And those who come down have no downcast 
air. 
But daintily tread the rough way. 
Or pause to gaze off from the top of the stair. 
As if life were a long summer day. 
[18] 



Much more can we see in the artist's whim 

Of the island in far Italy, 
As we quietly sit in the twilight dim 

And musingly stare at the stair of Capri. 



[19] 



REVERIE 

Why have you charmed me so? 

'Tis months since last we met, 

Yet I cannot forget ; 
And this I surely know: 
You still do haunt me so. 

You should not treat me so. 
My head is old and gray, 
My youth has passed away, 
But this one thing I know: 
You still do haunt me so. 

'Tis not your fault, I know. 

My thought to you w^ill go ; 

Yours wander to and fro. 
And only this I know: 
You still do haunt me so. 

This must no further go — 
I must in peace pursue 
My way, apart from you. 
In friendship let me go, 
And cease to haunt me so. 

Yet this thought pains me, too; 
For pleasant thoughts of thee 
Wreathe in my memory: 
I cannot bid thee go, 
You still do charm me so. 
[20] 



A CHRISTMAS ODE 

(Owed to my newsboy.) 
The winter blast is high, my boy, 

And soon the snow will fly, my boy, 

As heretofore; 
So, when my evening news you bring. 
Don't give it just a careless fling, 
As if 'twere but a worthless thing — 

Aim high, my boy. 

Let fly, my boy. 
And land it at the door! 

My dooryard is so wide, my boy, 
My patience has been tried, my boy. 

In days before. 
By searching in the gloomy night 
For papers sometimes lost to sight — 
The victims of the wild wind's spite. 

Aim high, my boy, 

Let fly, my boy. 
And land it at the door! 

The toying winds delight, my boy. 
To catch it in its flight, my boy, 

And twist it o'er. 
They love to take it on their wings 
From one of your nonchalant flings 
And hide it under plants and things. 

Aim high, my boy. 

Let fly, my boy, 
And land it at the door ! 
[21] 



You know mv slippered feet, my boy. 
Shrink fr>on\ the icy sleet, my boy. 

It iv.akes them sore. 
It brinifs chilblains, and other chills. 
Sore thivAAt, the grippe, and other ills. 
Coughs, colds, and heavy doctors* bills. 

Aim high, my boy. 

Let fiy, my boy. 
And land it at the door! 

I>on't send it with a cra>di, my boy. 
Against the window sAsh, my K\v, 

As once before. 
It makes me jmnp with sudden fright. 
My ruddy face grows blanched and white. 
My heart gixs sinking out of sight. 

Aim high, my K'vy, 

Let fly, my boy. 
And land it at the door! 

Let this impress you so. my K^^y. 
As on your rounds you go. my K\v. 

Ftx^m door to door. 
That when you reach my house each day 
You'll just recall this simple lay. 
And as you give your muscles play. 

Aim high, my boy. 

Let fly. my boy. 
And land it at the door! 

[*2] 



A SUMMER IDYL 

(Lake Waramaug, Conn.) 

A LITTLE maid I know, 

Just sweet sixteen or so, 
And she's just as pleasant as a sunny day; 

She scarcely looks at me. 

And yet I plainly see 
That I can't help but love her, anyway. 

I watch her quietly 

From the corner of my eye, 

And notice that the boys can't keep away; 
She's set their hearts aflame, 
Yet sure she's not to blame. 

She's such a demure maiden, anyway. 

At times, when she is gone. 
The house seems drear and lone; 

I wonder if returning she'll delay; 
I wonder if from town 
Some laddie saunters down 

To meet my winsome lassie, any way ! 

She flits about the house 

As still as any mouse, 
That watches when the kittens are at play; 

And yet, whene'er the boys 

Are full of fun and noise, 
'Tis plain she longs to help them, anyway. 
[23] 



Yet when I catch her eye, 

She coldly passes by, 
But why she does it she will never say. 

I must be growing old, 

And yet I will be bold 
And tell her that I love her, anyway. 

Ah, me! I have a fear 

That some day, quite too near, 

Some handsome lad across her path will stray ; 
And then — you know the rest: 
Two hearts supremely blest. 

And there will be no longer Annie Way. 



[24] 



SALT SEA SENSATIONS 

(To the uncomfortable one, S. S. Catalonia, 
Mid-Ocean.) 

How beautiful the sea! 

Its charms entrance me so ! 
Its waves so lightly dance, 

And I dance, too. 
(10 minutes interval.) 
How lovely is the sea. 

With many a tint and hue ! 
Its depths so deeply blue, 

And I'm blue, too. 

How changeful is the sea! 
It looks no longer blue. 
But now appears so pale ; 

And I'm pale, too. 

How stormy is the sea! 

The gathering clouds I view — 
I see its troubled breast — 

I'm troubled, too. 

How restless is the sea! 
As far as one can view 
Its waters rush and heave. 

And I heave, too. 



[25] 



How treacherous is the sea 

O'er which ships come and go 
Yet ofttimes sink below — 

I, too, must go 

Below ! 



[26] 



TO OUR SECRETARY 

Call us together once more, 

We implore ! 
The absentee season is o'er, 
Long evenings are with us once more. 
The boys are all back again home, 
The sweet happy twilight has come. 
We are birds of a feather, 
We'd all flock together 
If you'd call us together once more. 

We miss the bright sun of your smile 
That our meetings is wont to beguile, 
And the big chunks of wisdom that shine 
When the Twilight Club gathers to dine. 
Call us together once more. 
We implore. 

We pray you be gracious and kind. 
We're starving in body and mind ; 
We want a good square dinner. 
Each Twilight saint and sinner; 
Nlaught else so delightful we find. 
To call us again, be inclined. 
Call us together once more. 
We implore. 



[27] 



TROUBLE IN THE FAR EAST 

" Hazara, Chief of one of the warlike tribes, has 
organized a rebellion against the Ameer, Abdurrahman 
Kahn, who may invoke aid from India." (Telegram 
via London.) 

Great Abdurrahman, Kahn, 
Of wild Afghanistan, 
Hazara 'bellion on his hands, 
In far-off foreign lands. 

We pity him, 'tis true, 
'Tis all that we can do — 
He's not American, 
He's only A-meer Kahn. 

P'rhaps Abdurrahman Kahn 
Outwit the rebels' plan. 
Turn all their schemes aslant — 
And then perhaps he can't. 

If England will but aid 
Against the rebel raid. 
You'll see, Afghanistan, 
That Abdurrahman Kahn. 



[28] 



THE SPIRIT OF MISSIONS 

I ASKED a girl with light brown hair, 

Eyes of blue and cheeks all red, 
"Are you working for the Master?" 
And her heart beat just the faster, 
As she stood so bright and fair: 
"Yes, I am, sir," soft she said. 

I asked a boy with rosy face. 
As past me on his way he sped, 
"Are you, too, an earnest worker. 
Gladly working, not a shirker — 
Working where you find a place?" 
"Yes, I am, sir," bold he said. 

Now of both I asked again — 

Noting that their fear had fled — 
"Are you of the cheerful givers. 
Whose good deeds are like the rivers. 
Flowing thro' the fertile plains?" 
"Yes, I am, sir," they both said. 

"When the night o'erspreads the land. 
When the sun has gone to bed. 
Are you going to the meeting. 
Loving comrades kindly greeting — 
The meeting of the Mission Band?" 
"Yes, I am, sir," they both said. 

[29] 



Then I put a final query — 
To tliis had my question led : 
"Do you know the heathen nation 

That will have consideration 
In to-night's deliberation?" 
And the answer was the cheery 
"Yes, Siam, sir," they both said. 



[30] 



THE PRINCE OF PEACE 

(A Song of Hope.) 

On Judean hills in years long past 
There flashed a glory in the sky, 
As angels sang, "Peace on the earth," 
In wondrous strains of melody. 

The awe-struck shepherds heard the song, 
They saw the glory of the Lord ; 
With eager steps they pressed their way 
To Bethlehem's inn with one accord. 

There in a manger-cradle lay. 
In swaddling clothes, the Prince of Peace. 
Joy to the world ! May songs of praise 
And adoration never cease! 

The years rolled on, and hearts grew cold ; 
The child, now grown to man's estate, 
Endured derision, scorn and rage, 
The victim of man's cruel hate. 

Until at last in devilish spite 
Men dragged him to the green hillside 
Where, with a thief on either hand. 
The Prince of Peace was crucified. 



[31] 



And ever since, man's furious hates 
And mad designs have swept the earth 
To mock the little stranger's claim 
That angels echoed at his birth. 

The heavens grew dark; the twinkling star 
That led the journey of the sages 
Paled in its beams and flickered out, 
Enshrouded by the long Dark Ages. 

For Peace had fled and War's dread woes 
'Have seared the earth with bloody scars. 
And countless hosts have kissed the sod, 
The victims of unnumbered wars. 

And persecution's deadly fires. 
And revolution's lurid path. 
Ambition's lusts, and sword, and flame 
Have marked these following years of wrath. 

Yet once again the heavens grow bright. 
The Prince moves on the hearts of men. 
Impelling them to thoughts of Peace 
And cahner paths of sense again. 

The air is full of melody. 
The far-off^ song is drawing near; 
Again we hear the angels sing 
Though faint and low the tones appear. 
[ 32 ] 



We catch the notes, we hear the song, 
And, like the shepherds in the night, 
We turn to Bethlehem, as of yore. 
We haste to greet the Prince of Light ! 

We move in milder temper now. 
The blackened night of strife has flown. 
Lift up the voice ! Prepare the way ! 
The Prince of Peace comes to his own! 

Chautauqua, 1911. 



[33] 



A SUITABLE NAME 

(For the Temple of Fame.) 

I HAVE called o'er the list of the great 

In search of a suitable name. 
It has been lots of fun, and I have hit upon one 
To go in the Temple of Fame. 
He's a very ubiquitous man, 
Sometimes an iniquitous man, 
But he's mostly a man who does good when he 
can. 

And his name is (?) You've heard it. 

There is Adam and Abram and Moses, 

Darius and Cyrus and Saul, 
Isaiah and Samuel, Alexander and Daniel, 
Zenophon and Xerxes and Paul. 
But mi/ man's a particular man, 
A very orbicular man. 
All over the world his name has been whirled. 
And you know it ! You've heard it. 

There's Homer and Caesar and Knox, 

Columbus and Virgil and Plato, 
Shakespeare and Lord Byron, Tom Paine and 
O'Brien, 

And P. G.— that's Peter the Great, Oh ! 
My man's an illustrious man. 
He's a very industrious man. 
He never will shirk his duty or work, 
And his name is (?) You know it! 
[3*] 



There's Longfellow, Bryant and Holmes, 

Napoleon, Barnum and Cook, 
Dear old Cicero, Messrs. Morton, Bliss & Co. 
Burton, Jefferson and Sheridan Shook. 
My man is a sagacious man, 
A somewhat mordacious man. 
His scintillant wit, without hurting, can hit, 
And his name is (?) You've heard it! 

Then there's Calvin and Grinnell and Clay, 
Lowell, Webster, Dante and Lenoir, 
Lord Nelson, Ed. Harrigan, Gen. Grant and 
Phil. Sheridan, 

Who "fit with me into the war." 
But my man's an oracular man, 
A very spectacular man. 
You are all in a maze as at him you gaze, 
A|nd his name is (?) You've heard it! 

He's a poet — a scholar — a priest, 

A soldier — a statesman — a sage, 
A landsman — a sailor — an artist — a tailor, 
He's the foremost man of the age. 
For he's a most rational man, 
A world-wide, international man; 
All lands of the earth he claims for his birth 

And his name is JOHN SMITH. 



[S5] 



THE CHEERFUL GIVER 

Go forth, little coin, on your mission of love 
And do all the good that you can ; 

The angels of mercy look down from above 
To see what I'm doing for man. 

The minister told us to-day of the woe 
And sin that is cursing the earth. 

And so I suppose you had better go 
And help along all you are worth. 

You are little, I know, but no doubt there'll be 
more 

To aid in the great work in view, 
And nobody knows, on that far-away shore, 

How much e'en a penny can do. 

I ought to give something to aid in the work; 

You'll help along somewhat, I guess ; 
You see you are sent because you're a cent 

And I find that I have nothing less ! 



[36] 



MY VIS-A-VIS 

(By a " Stay-at-Home.") 

You are back, I see, 
And I'm so glad. It is so sweet 
Once more to gaze across the street 
No more an empty chair to see. 
These days have weary been to me, 
But now, you're back, I see. 

You're back, I see. 
For days I gazed across the way 
In earnest hope that each new day 
Would bring you into sight once more 
To cheer my labors as before; 

And now, you're back, I see. 

You're back, I see. 
I hope you've had a glorious time 
Sojourning in some other clime, 
On mountain height, by woodland lake, 
Or ocean's shore where billows break; 

And now, you're back, I see. 

You're back, I see. 
I tarried here and did my task 
Each weary day. I'd only ask 
That through your window I might see 
Your shapely form, my Vis-a-vis; 

And now, you're back, I see. 
[37] 



You're back, I see. 
Turn round and look across the street. 
Just give our eyes a chance to meet 
And make my irksome task grow light. 
You surely do not treat me right, 

For still your back, I see. 

Your back alone, I see! 
I ne'er have seen you face to face. 
You see it's a peculiar case, 
For though you are my Vis-a-vis, 
You never yet have thought of me, 
And every time I glance at thee 

I only know, your back, I see. 



[88] 



IGNIS FATUUS 

(An Arcadian Idyl.) 

When you go to Digby town 

You must surely write it down 
To put up at The Myrtle's pleasant shades. 

It is such a homelike place, 

And the housemaids, full of grace. 
Will steal your heart away — those lovely 

maids — 
For they wear the oldtime cap and kirtle 

At The Myrtle. 

You will be as in a dream, 

For Evanejeline will seem 
Reincarnated and moving as of yore. 

And you will think that Time has turned, 

For the joy of all concerned. 
His hourglass back a century or more 
When you see them wear the cap and kirtle 

At The Myrtle. 

The dress is not a mystery. 

But a bit of ancient history 
That has wandered down the years from long 
ago. 

When the girls of Arcadie 

Were so beautiful to see; 



[39] 



But their successors are as pretty, charming, 

bright and witty 
When they wear the oldtime cap and kirtle 
At The Myrtle. 

This advice we jotted down 

And when we reached the Digby town 
We told Jehu, who drove us up the street, 

To seek "The Myrtle Inn," 

For 'twould be a mortal sin 
To come so far and not to see the sweet 
Young maidens wear the oldtime cap and kirtle 

At The Myrtle. 

Alack, and well-a-day! 

How it grieves my heart to say 
That most sorely disappointed were we all, 

For though we watched with care 

Not a maiden young and fair. 
Old and ugly, slim and fat, short or tall. 
Saw we wear the oldtime cap and kirtle 

At The Myrtle. 



[40] 



DRUMS AND BUGLES 

MILITARY VERSE 



DRUMS AND BUGLES 

(Cedar Creek, Virginia, October 19, 1864.) 
Surprise. 

Hark ! hark to the drums, 
Fretting the air of the startled morn ! 

How the long roll comes, 
Waking the echoes in early dawn ! 

Far on our left, see 
Mists on the valley, mountain and hill ! 

Twig, bush, and tall tree. 
Wrapped in a ghost-pall, murky and still. 

Down through the white mist 
Struggle the rays of the morning light — 

Flashes of amethyst — 
Greeting but faintly the straining sight. 

Veiled in the thin light 
Silently covering the meadows, see 

JBayonets flashing bright 
Over the long lines of infantry. 

See ! they are on us ! 
Rank upon rank through the haze they pour. 

Breaking upon us 
Like waves of the sea, with angry roar. 

[43] 



Out of the thickets 
Comes the foe as 'twere dragons' teeth sown, 

Scattering our pickets 
Like wind when it blows the ripe thistle-down. 

Now the big guns bay, 
Adding their roar to the musket's note — 

Now wilder the fray — 
Hear the shell hiss from the cannon's throat! 

Hark ! hark to the drums ! 
Now the sounds change — they tell of defeat. 

Louder the wail comes — 
Sullenly now they are beating "retreat." 

And the sun, as it lifted and shone through the 
haze. 
Looked down on an army all shattered and 
torn, 
Saw our leaders disheartened — our men in a 
daze 
And twenty guns lost in the early mom. 



Rally, 

Hear the bugles blow! 
Halting the disordered lines of men ; 

How clear the notes go, 
Rousing them up to duty again. 
[44] 



Behind the stone walls, 
Offering screen from the enemy's sight, 

Answering the sharp calls. 
Broken battalions in squads reunite. 

Across the broad pike 
O'er which we toiled in days but just gone 

Regiments mass, like 
Rock-ridges by sudden upheaval thrown. 

To right and left, see, 
Leaving the woods and wheeling in line 

Troops of cavalry. 
Rattling with sabre and clanking carbine. 

On low swelling knolls. 
See batteries in position wheel, 

And from the guns rolls 
The iron torrent of shot and shell. 

Again hear bugles blow! 
Sharply they ring in the mid-day air; 

How shrill the notes flow 
Sounding "Advance," reverse to repair. 

Victory. 

Where Winchester lies 
Far to the North, on its hills of green. 

Faint dust-clouds arise. 
Like specks on the distant horizon seen. 
[45] 



There's a shout in the rear: 
Faintly it comes from the hills away, 

But nearer, and near — 
Rolling along like storm-driven spray, 

Still nearer it sounds, 
Till galloping down in the bright sunshine 

Our old leader bounds. 
And gallant Sheridan sweeps down the line ! 

Hear the bugles blow! 
Triumphant trumpetings long and large! 

Hear the wild notes flow, 
Fiercely sounding mad calls for a charge! 

And the sun, as it set o'er the Western hills 
Looked down on our troops (no more scat- 
tered and torn) 
In our old camps again — how the memory 
thrills !— 
And forty guns won since the later morn. 



U Envoi 

Rich harvests have oft been reaped in that 
valley 
In halcyon years, free from tumult and war. 
But richer by far was the glean of that rally 
In the golden October of "sixty-four," 
[46] 



CALL THE ROLL ! 

"Call the roll, sergeant !" Thro' the live-long 

day 
The surging tide of battle rose and fell; 
And when the evening came, o'ercast and gray, 

The hissing shot and shell 

And frantic yell 
Had ceased their chilling cry and died away. 

"Call the roll, sergeant!" When the day was 

done 
The crippled ranks, that in the early morn 
Had almost thought the field already won, 

Like the late autumn corn. 

Shattered and torn. 
Stood in the trenches that with gore had run. 

"Call the roll, sergeant ! Answer roll call, men ! 

Count up the dead, the fallen and the lost ! 
To-morrow's sun may see the fight again. 

The clinking bayonets crossed ! 

Sum up the cost 
At which we've held this fearful slaughter-pen ! 

"Call the roll, sergeant I" In the misty light 

The call went on; but many a name 
Gave no reply. The silence of the night 
Told how a life's brief flame 
For transient fame 
Had suddenly gone out in the fierce fight. 
[47] 



Call the roll to-day ! Years have gone since 
then. 
No more we hear the battle's sullen roar. 
In peace our days go hurrying by, yet when 
From year to year we meet 

And comrades, comrades greet. 
Some face is missed we ne'er shall see again. 

Call the roll again! For, ceaseless, day by 

day 
The weary toil of life goes ever on. 
Each 3^ear some comrade drops beside the way ; 

Life's field is only won 

When life goes down, 
And all that we have loved is senseless clay. 

Call the roll to-day! What though our names 

be few! 
Still would we number in our ranks the 

brave, 
And call from memory's store the lost and true. 

Who, nobly dying, gave 

Their lives to save 
The honor of our flag, the spangled blue. 



[48] 



WAITING MUSTER-OUT 

1865 

Beneath the flag 
In Winter's blast and Summer's sun 
How slow the years did run! 

How time did lag 
While we our weary watches kept 
Against the foe, while loved ones slept. 

When peace had come 
And war its banners furled once more, 
The breezes to us bore 

The song of home, 
While we, impatient, dreamed about 
The happy day for muster-out. 

1894i 

Long years have passed 
With varying round of good and ill — 
How slow the years move still! 

We stand at last 
And backward look along those years, 
Recalling by-gone joys and fears, 

Yet forward, too; 
Our camping here cannot be long; 
We hear another song, 

Our home in view, 
While we, expectant, dream about 
And wait our final muster-out. 
[49] 



RETROSPECT 

1887 

Since last we met the circling months have run 
Their accustomed round, with varying grief 
and cheer ; 
And we who, years ago, were comrades first ac- 
quaint 
Once more in yearly meeting gather here. 

Since last we met the Autumn's golden hours 
Crept lingering on, crowned with rich har- 
vest gain ; 
While slowly lengthening shadows closed the 
days. 
And shortening twilight covered hill and 
plain. 

Winter, in snowy garb and mantle white, 

With storm, and wind, and howling tempest 
blast , 

With its rich tracery of frost and icy gem — 
Bleak Winter, too, is with the silent past. 

Spring, like an airy maid, came tripping on. 
Blushing with flowers and radiant with dew^ , 

Filled with bright hopes, with bud and leaf and 
spray — 
Promise fulfilled of resurrection ever new. 

[50] 



And once again, in glowing Summer's heat, 
Here by cool waters meets our band once 
more, 

As, gathering from our distant homes, we greet 
Each welcome face, and tell our battles o'er. 

How time runs on ! The months and seasons 
pass 
Like dreams that flit before us while we 
sleep. 
The years go hurrying by like storm-pressed 
clouds 
Urged through the sky by winds' impetuous 
sweep. 

Standing to-day, within this present hour. 
We turn and, looking back, with deep 
thought scan 
The years since first we grasped each other's 
hands, 
A third of earthly life's allotted span. 

Here would we rest — our days of warring 

done ; 

Here pause awhile as we review the past. 

Recalling, one brief moment, scenes that shall 

Fill History's page as long as time shall 

last. 



[51] 



Nor would we still indulge one bitter thought 

'Gainst those who bravely faced us in the 

field. 

Brothers once more, henceforth our motto be 

One land., one flag, one Union and one 

shield ! 

Brothers once more, we treasure up the past 
As stories of the gods of old entrance our 
ears — 

Brave deeds of Spartan bands in story told 
Eclipsed by braver deeds of later years ! 

Gone are our golden days; yet, year by year. 
We gather to recount those days of yore. 

To bind with memory's chain the scattering 
threads 
Of the old scenes, a part of which we were. 

So, as the years go swiftly passing by, 

Gilding with brighter glow the story of our 
deeds , 
While o'er our dulling senses comes the sigh 
That swells the heart as youthful joy re- 
cedes, 

God grant us grace still in our riper years 
To do our part. Each day may strength 
be given 
To conquer every foe in Life's great fight. 
And pass triumphant to the joys of Heaven. 
[52] 



FOLLOWING THE FLAG 

Young men, whither bound in the hot flush of 
youth, 
Sturdy of limb and with hearts all aflame? 
Your eager gaze turns to the far away 
South — 
Seek ye for riches, or honor, or fame? 
"We follow the flag." 

Can ye forsake the dear friends you have 
known 
Since the days of your boyhood, away in the 
past ? 
Can ye break up the sweet ties that have 
grown 
So closely these many years, binding you 
fast? 

"We follow the flag." 

Think of the father — his eye has grown dim; 

Think of the mother — her hair silvery gray; 
He has no other to comfort and cheer him, 

She will go sadly when you are away. 
"We follow the flag." 

Know ye the dangers that lie in the road, 
Bullet and sabre cut, bayonet and shell, 
Dungeon and prison pen, hunger's sharp 
goad? 
"Yes, we have heard it — we know it full well : 
We follow the flag." 
[5S] 



In the swamps of the South kirk fever and 
pain; 
On the fields of Virginia death rides his pale 
horse ; 
The meadow and upland in sunlight and rain 
Are flecked with the shadow of many a 
corpse. 

"We follow the flag." 

"Our country, imperiled by treason's red hand 

Has called us to rally and crush out the foe; 

Friends, home ties and loved ones are but cords 

of sand, 

Our country has called us and forward we 

go. 

We follow the flag." 



Old comrades, who meet in re-union once more, 
With forms bowed and bent — with heads 
crowned with gray. 
Worn wrecks still afloat from the tempest of 
war, 
What moves your enfeebled heart-pulses to- 
day .'^ 

"We follow the fla^. 



o 



"We followed it long in the days of our youth. 

We followed it well until victory came. 
We fought for that flag in the sunny South, 
And we love it still in our old age the same. 
We follow the flag. 
[54] 



"Look on these feeble forms — see the deep 
scar — 
Gaze on the empty sleeve — hear the loud 
crutch — 
And read, in these tokens, what time cannot 
mar — 
The depth of devotion that cost us so much. 
We follow the flag. 

"Oh flag that we love — oh beacon of light. 

Oh flag of our country, majestic and free 
Still be thy stars and stripes emblem of right 
Still shall our heart-throbs go leaping for 
thee. 

We follow the flag. 

"Still shalt thou float, still wave thy soft folds 
O'er a nation refined in the furnace of war; 

Still will we render the wealth our heart holds 

Of loving devotion that age cannot mar. 

We follow the flag. 

"And when the Commander shall summon us 
home 
To meet in a sweeter re-union above. 
Fall gently over us, tenderly cover us. 

So that in death still, oh, flag that we love, 
We'll follow the flag." 



[55] 



TO OUR OLD FRIEND 

Some sing of the ladje faire — 

The soft, fresh bloom of her cheek, 

Her melting eyes, her glorious hair. 
Her demeanor modest and meek. 
I sing not the ladye faire. 

And some of the country sing — 

The charm of the grassy lea. 
The budding flower, the bird on the wing. 

The blossom on bush and tree. 
I do not the country sing. 

Some sing of the warrior bold — 
The knight of the golden shield. 

The crusader's oath, the wars of old, 
The carnage on bloody field. 
I sing not the warrior bold. 

Some sing of the mountains gray, 
With their snow-clad peaks in air. 

Their wooded slopes w^here the wild winds play, 
And the wild beast holds his lair. 
I sing not the mountains gray. 

Some sing of the ocean vast. 
The roar of the angry sea, 
The storm-tossed ship, and the straining mast 
And the billows, rolling free. 
I sing not the ocean vast. 
[56] 



Some sing of the silver moon 

As she rides the summer sky, 
Far up aloft like a silk balloon; 

They may, if they choose — not I. 
I sing not the silver moon. 

I warble another song, 

I sing not by other's rule. 
Model of patience through ages of wrong 

I sing thee, the Army Mule. 
This is my present song. 

Old friend of my campaign days. 

Partner for many a mile. 
Surely I'll lift my voice in thy praise, 

Though others thy kind revile, 

Old friend of my campaign days. 

I sing to thee, Army Mule, 

Because I know thee of old ; 
And thy quaint life, without ridicule, 

Has never been fairly told. 
I sing to thee. Army Mule. 

I sing of thy earnest ways, 

Thy steadily plodding gait. 
The whole-lunged heartiness of thy brays. 

Thy whole demeanor sedate. 
I sing of thy earnest ways. 

[57] 



I sing of thy flopping ear, 

Waving witli indolent grace 
To catch the echoes in front and rear, 

Above thy impassive face. 
I sing of thy flopping ear. 

I sino' of thv archino' mane, 

The silken gloss of thy hide. 
The iron muscles that tug and strain, 

And thy restless, panting side. 
I sing of thy arching mane. 

I sing of thy pensive eye, 

So still, so patient, so calm. 
And yet so sly, when your foot ''lets fly," 

And makes the driver say — (naughty words) ; 
I sing thy expressive eye. 

I sing of thy paintbrush tail. 

Pendant with motionless grace. 
Or lashing thy sides like a mighty flail. 

The vexing fly to displace. 
I sing thy peculiar tail. 

I sing of the gladsome note, 

That swells on the troubled air 
From the awful depths of thy cavernous 
throat, 
And makes the bystander swear. 
I sing of thy gladsome note. 
[58] 



I sing of thee as a whole, 

Verily thou art no fool, 
And here I proffer with all my soul, 

A health to thee. Army Mule. 
Long life to thee. Army Mule. 



[59] 



IN MEMORIAM 

MAJ. PETER VREDENBURGH. 

14th N. J. Volunteers. 

Killed in action Opequan, Va. 

September 19, 1864. 

Once we sang a martial strain, 

With our faces to the foe ; 
Sweeping o'er the sultry plain, 
Tramping down the ripening grain , 

In the days of long ago. 

Bright the sun on Opequan ! 

Bright the flashing river's flow ! 
Yet the fray but just began. 
Ere our hero's life-blood ran 

In the days of long ago. 

Now we sing a milder lay, 

While our steps unsteady go 
To the West ; while fades our day 
To the night, not far away, 

As we muse on "long ago." 

Still we mourn our hero bold. 

Backward, loving thoughts we throw. 
For our younger love for him 
Passing years can never dim. 
And our love shall ne'er grow cold. 
Though time speeds on and years grow old. 

For one whom hap of war laid low 

In the days of long ago. 
[60] 



IN MEMORIAM 

LIEUT. JOHN C. BOOTH 

14th N. J. Volunteers. 
Died May 2, 1891. 

In the early years, ere the Spirit of War 

Was abroad in the land on its mission 
of woe, 
In the twilight dim, on the soft-rippling shore 
Of the peaceful James, 
In musical notes, soft and low 

The voice of the slave was heard 
A^ his paddle the water stirred. 
Singing, "Row, row, o'er the waters so blue; 
Like a fairy I float in my gum-tree canoe." 

In the later years, when the Spirit of War 

Inflamed every heart ; and a nation in arms 
Grim bivouac kept on the gun-swept shore 
Of the troubled James ; 
When we paused in the lull of alarms. 
From our camp on the hill 
In the twilight still, 
The voice of our comrade was heard. 
In tones that our bosoms stirred. 
Singing, "Row, row, o'er the waters so blue; 
Like a fairy I float in my gum-tree canoe." 



[61] 



In these later years, when the Spirit of Peace 
Has stilled the fierce passions of brothers to 
rest, 
We sigh as we think how our numbers de- 
crease 
When we meet year by year, far removed 
from our quest 
On the quiet James, 
And the voice of our brother has touched 
every breast 
With that song of long ago 
In musical notes, soft and low. 
Singing, "Row, row, o'er the waters so blue; 
Like a fairy I float in my gum-tree canoe." 

Again we have met, in the Spirit of Peace, 

But the voice of the singer we hear no more ; 
On the river beyond he has found sweet re- 
lease. 
In a sunlight far brighter than shone before 

On the sparkling James ; 
But an echo comes back from that far-away 
shore 
And we fancy we almost hear 
Those musical notes, soft and clear, 
Singing, "Row, row, o'er the waters so blue; 
Like a fairy I float in my gum-tree canoe." 



[62] 



THE MONOCACY FIGHT 

Fair in the gleam of the bright summer sky 
The Capital lay in sixty-four, 
While leagues away, round Petersburg's sides 
Were rolling and surging the tides of war. 

Securely it lay in indolent ease 
In the lazy heat of the summer sun ; 
Flags floated gay in the dallying breeze 
O'er the stately halls of fair Washington. 

Little they reckoned of danger near 
Who thronged the streets the livelong day. 
Was not all festive and bright with cheer.? 
Was not the enemy far away? 

There's a voice from the trenches, 

A sound deep and shrill ; 

It reaches the city 

From mountain and hill; 

It comes o'er the plain 

In accents of thunder, 

(Good cause for your wonder) 

"Early is marching again." 



[6a] 



Therc'ji a cry from the vHlley- 
A cry lon^ ami loud: 
It tdls its own story. 
Like * dark thundor-^loud 

With Hirfitninif and rain: 
Hoed well when ye hear it-, 
Xooti? be that ye fear it: 
"^ Early is marching again.^ 

There's a cry from Poton-^ac, 
The dangler is near: 
The alarm is sounding 
111 notes sharp and clear, 
''X>ur efforts are vain: 
Rouse up, ye freemen. 
Rouse ye and be men — 
Early is CTx>ssing again," 

There's a voicv from the city- 
A wail deep and wild: 
It blanches the features 
Of woman and child. 
Men cry as in pain: 
^•Early is near us. 
He does not fear us. 
Early is raiding again," 



[6*] 



There's a call to the trenches : 
"I'he river is crossed 
The enemy threatens. 
Help! Help! or we're lost!" 
This was the frenzied strain, 
"Give us the Sixth Corps 
To guard us once more 
And stand as of yore 
Confronting Early again." 

Down from Monocacy 

Comes a deep sound, 

Cannon are booming 

Round upon round. 

Strive ye with might and with main. 

Battle, ye fearless, 

With bravery peerless, 

Early is fighting again. 

Small were our numbers, 
But never a heart 
Quailed at the onset; 
Ours, the heroes' part, 
Checker the green with slain, 
Press to the battle 
Mid noise and rattle; 
We too are fighting again. 



[65] 



Right grandly we met him 
Though everyone knew 
We were facing an army 
And our numbers were few. 
What could our efforts mean 
Fighting so many men 
With scarcely any men 
And only six guns to sixteen? 

Long time -we fought him, 

Fought till w^e taught him 

The Blue Crosses were blocking his way. 

We could but meet him, 

Not hope to beat him, 

Only to keep him 

Delayed for a night and a day. 

Well-paid our losses, 

Could the Red and White Crosses 

But reach the scene of the fray. 

When at last on his sight 
Gleamed the capital's spires — 
The goal of his march 
And ardent desires — 
With gloom and despair 
He saw that, to greet him. 
All ready to meet him 
The Red and White Crosses were there. 
Then, barred from his prey. 
In sullen displeasure. 
Chagrined beyond measure, 
He turned back and went his way. 
[66] 



OPEQUAN 

Shenandoah Valley, Va., September 19, 1864. 
Anniversary Ode, 1908. 

Where were you forty and four years ago 
On this nineteenth day of September.? 
Comrades, come join us; take part in the talk 
And tell us just what you remember. 

Turn your thoughts backward and think of 

the past, 
And with it let memory dally; 
While pleased recollections come thick and 

fast 
When you think of our work in "The Valley." 

Clear rose the sun in the heavens that day 
And soon our whole column was moving. 
For at last we had brought old Early to bay 
And his mettle we longed to be proving. 

Sore were the memories of Maryland's field — 
Of our stand by Monocacy's water — 
Bright were our hopes to force him to yield, 
Though the fight here might even be hotter. 

Slowly the sun moved up in the sky, 

As we pressed on the ranks of the foeman 

With a cheer and a dash that soon made him 

fly, 

Though resisting with courage so Roman! 
[67] 



Harder we pressed on, through Winchester 

town, 
Not once giving time for a rally. 
And when the day closed, in headlong retreat 
We had driven him far up "The Valley." 

He left in our hands as trophies that day 
Five guns and nine flags we had taken. 
He fought a good fight, but we drove him away 
And thus proved our courage unshaken. 

But the cost ! Alas ! behind us there lay 
Our wounded, the dead and the dying — 
Dear price to pay for the gain of a day. 
E'en though we had sent the foe flying! 

Still rolls Opequan on toward the sea ; 
Still droop, on its banks, the green willows ; 
Still smile the meadow, the hilltop and lea ; 
Still waves the ripe wheat in long billows. 

Clear shines the sun in the heavens above, 

In these golden days of September; 

The while we look back to the days that we 

love. 
And call up the things we remember! 



[68] 



IN EVERGREEN 

Up and down God's-acre street 
Hear the throbbing of the drum! 

Bom ! Bom ! Bom-bom-bom ! 
Hear the tread of heavy feet ! 
Hear the wailing of the fife ! 
See! the files of soldiers come 
Marching to the muffled drum, 

Bom ! Bom ! Bom-bom-bom ! 

Not in flush of early life, 
Not our youth in gaudy dress, 
Banners gay and nimble step, 
Well-lined ranks that eager press 
Marching to the drum and fife ; 
But a line of aged men, 
Grizzled, crippled, worn and gray. 
And the ranks are loose and thin 
As they come along the way. 
Marching to the wailing fife, 
Stepping to the throbbing drum, 
Bom ! Bom ! Bom-bom-bom ! 

See the faces seamed by years, 
See the frosted hair of age. 
Empty sleeves — the limping knee — 
Silent tales of War's stern wage. 



[69] 



At the front there goes the flag 
Not to breezes flaunting free, 
Held in leash by raven ties 
Speaking silent eulogy. 
Every comrade's heaving breast 
Bears an emblem sheathed in gloom; 
One they loved has gone to rest 
And they bear him to the tomb, 
To the waiting, quiet tomb. 

Through the paths of calm God's-acre 
Hear the throbbing of the drum! 
To the presence of its Maker 
Has the parted spirit come ; 
But the body here they lay, 
Yield they to the grave their trust. 
There to rest till Gabriel's day, 
Earth to earth and dust to dust. 



This the end of earthly strife. 
Hear the wailing of the fife! 
Hear the throbbing of the drum ! 
Bom ! Bom ! Bom-bom-bom ! 



[70] 



AFTER THE BATTLE 

What awful shapes are these that blur the hill 

And mutely stare into the azure sky? 
What ghastly forms be they that lie so still — 
Stiff, swollen corpses erstwhile full of life 
And love and hope and hate and deadly strife? 
How still they lie ! 

Above, the golden sun rolls on his way 

And floods with light the hilltop and the 
plain. 
Around, the soft winds blow and breezes stray 
Among these piles of dead, as if to bear 
Their parted spirits to the upper air. 
Released from pain. 

The sward is trampled and the green grass 
stained 
With clots of blood and brain and 
mangled flesh ; 
The trees are spotted as if Heaven had rained 
In wrath, red showers to bathe the earth in gore 
And drenched the fields with crimson, evermore 
To weep afresh. 



[71] 



And all around us lie, heaped upon heap, 

Distorted forms once full of lusty force. 
Now torn by shot or shell or deadly sweep 
Of hurtling rifle-fire that filled the air 
With flying death, sweeping the breastworks 
bare 
In its hot course. 

Look on this form, contorted, blacked by heat. 

Repulsive in its hideous shape — afl*right 
With the fierce look of hate that found its seat 
In the fixed eye-balls whose wide-staring gaze 
With all its horrid gruesomeness amaze 
And stuns our sight. 

What awful passions tore his frenzied heart 

In the close touch of combat hand to hand? 
What murderous anger this that can impart 
To the dead eye that fiendish, furious glare 
As if the hates of Hell had centered there 
At Death's command ! 

Yet here is one whose slender boyish frame 

And childish face, tell of a gentle home. 

At duty's call, a warrior he came. 

Though but a youth, nor deemed his fancy 
wild 

To tempt a man's endurance, though a child; 
So did he come. 

[7a] 



And here he lies, a smile upon his face 

As if in that last gasp he caught a sight 

Of the old home and felt the fond embrace 

Of her whose prayers had followed where he 
fared. 

See ! in his hand her picture, as he stared 
Through death's dim light. 

Oh, why should man infuriate passions loose, 

And, like a tiger pouncing on its prey, 
Leap to the throat of fellow man, and choose 
The devilish arts of carnage and of war 
To drench our mother earth with reeking gore 
In deadly fray! 

Sweet Peace, forever brood above our land. 

Bid the fell hates of men no longer swell, 

Check the loose tongue, that flaming firebrand, 

And bid the waves of madness break no more. 

The maddest moving of man's heart is War : 
And War is Hell ! 



[73] 



PRIVATE M'GINN 

Did ever you hear of Private INIcGinn? 
Private McGinn of Company Q? 
A roaring good fellow with a big double chin 
And a deep-seated yearning for "mountain 
dew" ! 
"To waste it were sin, so here's looking at 

you," 
Said Private McGinn, of Company Q. 

A rollicking lad was Private McGinn. 

Wherever he went, 'twas as good as a play. 

Unbounded good humor abounded in him 

And livened the labors and toils of the day. 
"A joke or a grin, on me or on you," 
Said Private McGinn of Company Q. 

The cook needed wood for the company fire, 
So Private McGinn, he chopped down a tree 
And then chopped it up. "I only desire 
To work it both ways. 'Tis funny," said he, 

"Down and up. I must win if stoutly I 
hew," 

Said Private McGinn of Company Q. 



[74] 



He drew a new coat, and strutted about 

As gay as a peacock, till someone said 

"It's too short in the back!" "I know it," said 

Mac, 
"It's a little short now, but I know it will be 
Long enough before another comes in, 
So I've nothing to rue," said Private Mc- 
Ginn of Company Q. 

With a goose in his arms, he marched into 

camp. 
"Halt there!" said the guard, "you've been 

robbing a farm." 
"Not so," said McGinn, "I was taking a tramp. 
And he hissed at the flag! — it made my blood 

warm — 
'Twas a rebel's own sin. What else could 

I do? 
I gathered him in !" — said Private McGinn 

of Company Q. 

When once he fell sick, he wasted away 
To a skeleton wreck, and daily grew thin. 
The boys all felt sad as he failed day by day 
And watched for the end of poor Private Mc- 
Ginn. 
"They may gather me in ; it looks pretty 

blue," 
Said Private McGinn of Company Q. 

[75] 



The doctor prescribed a big mustard plaster 
To put on his chest. Says Mac, " 'Tis a treat 
To have such a blanket, but, doctor, I think 
There's a great deal of mustard for so little 
meat 1 
I'm so dreadful thin, and delicate, too !" 
Said Private McGinn of Company Q. 

But Private McGinn took a turn for the good 
And answered to company call once more ; 
The huge mustard plaster had done its work 

well 
And gave him a chance to walk out the door. 
"At last by the skin of my teeth I pulled 

through," 
Said Private McGinn of Company Q. 

Its effect lingered long, for when the war 

closed 
And the news of surrender was noised about. 
Peace came in good time, and with Company Q 
Our Private McGinn was mustered out ! 

"I've been out and in, but now I am 

through," 
Said Private McGinn of Company Q. 



[76] 



THE SIGNAL GUN 

(Petersburg, April 1, 1865.) 

Nine long and weary months 

Had we besieged the town. 

The winter now was past 

And spring came slowly on, 

While closer drew the beleaguering lines 

To mock the desperate foe's designs. 

The Chieftain spoke his will; 

"The hour has come at length, 

No longer stand we still. 

Once more we'll test our strength. 

Once more throw down the battle gage 

And write new names on History's page." 

Five Forks and Hatchers Run 

Revealed their weakened power. 

Presage of victory 

In the decisive hour. 

Yet bastions, forts and earthworks gray 

Frowned in our front the livelong day. 

"The army moves at dawn ; 

Sleep on your arms to-night 

Prepared for instant march. 

Keep all your fires alight. 

The Country trusts its soldiers true 

To grandly end the work they do. 



"Await the signal gun, 

Fort Sedg^vick fires at three; 

Then storm the works in front 

However strong they be." 

This was the way the orders ran 

Passed down the line from man to man. 

In serried ranks the troops 

Responded to the call, 

Knowing full well that some 

Brave boys would surely fall. 

To trench and fort and low redoubt 

With silent step they all went out. 

Who, who can tell the thoughts 

Beneath the twinkling star, 

Of home, and loved ones dear, 

Beloved, though afar! 

For who might know what deadly toll 

The assault would task the muster roll. 

Yet who would grudge to die 

If but the fight be won. 

Though carnage dire might be 

Under the morrow's sun? 

Ten thousand braves might kiss the sod. 

Rejoiced to die for land and God. 



[78] 



From silence deep, profound, 
The gun the echoes woke. 
Mahone with sharp response 
In grim defiance spoke. 
Quick down the line the tumult ran 
As every gun its fire began. 

What thunders filled the air 
From their deep brazen throats ; 
Death's diapason sung 
With wild and varying notes, 
While far away with sullen roar 
Boomed with deep bass the Monitor. 

Musket fire and blinding flame — 
Bark of gun and crash of shell — 
Rifle crack and hurtling hail — 
Lightning flash and din of Hell — 
Into this seething storm they went 
With death or glory well content. 

"Forward ! 'long the whole line ! 
Forward!" You know the rest, 
How like an ocean surge 
They stormed and swept the crest. 
And how, before the midday sun, 
Their glorious task was grandly done, 
And Petersburg was won! 



[79] 



DOWN THE COMING YEARS 

A Dedication Ode, 
July 14s 190(J. 

Said the Ritie to the Drum, 

"From my throat 

Flies the bullet with shtirp note 

And its death-bespeaking hum. 

With my kiss 

Men shall hear a deadly hiss 

And to my dread power succumb." 

Said the Drum, in quick reply. 

•'When your ball 

Claims its victim, that is all : 

/ sound the charge, and then I cry 

Louder still. 

Stirring hearts with deeper thrill. 

Nerving them to do or die." 

Said the Bayonet to the Fife. 

"I am steel. 

With men's stem resolves I deal : 

I am master in the strife. 

In my gleam 

Flashes Death's unerring beam : 

I am Arbiter of Life.'' 



[SO] 



Spake the other, "But your work 

Soon is o'er, 

One mad charge and nothing more. 

In my cry what passions lurk ! 

Fierce and shrill 

Sound my notes o'er field and hill, 

Ever sounding, never still !" 

To the Bugle said the Sword : 

"In my light 

Men attain to Fame's proud height ; 

I of thrones and kings am lord. 

At my power 

Sovereigns cringe and tyrants cower ; 

Heroes claim me for reward." 

Then the Bugle answer made : 

"Swords may rust. 

Heroes crumble into dust. 

But the martial strain I played 

Shall ring on. 

In the hearts of sire and son. 

Till the stars in heaven shall fade." 

Said the Cannon to the Shaft: 
"I have turned 

Tides of battle. Men have learned 
To fear me when I speak — have quaffed 
Death's full cup 

When I bade them take it up — 
Thousands drinking one fell draught. 
[81] 



"Kings and crowns have leaned on me! 

I am MIGHT ! 

Rule I in my own strong right, 

Umpire over land and sea, 

None but fools dispute with me. 

When I speak. 

Fierce and stern, my wrath to wreak, 

I make nations bow the knee. 

"Years ago when Europe drew 

Every sword, 

Mine was the decisive word ! 

I Napoleon o'erthrew. 

'Twas the gun 

Sealed the tyrants' doom and won 

Trafalgar and Waterloo. 

"When, too, in a later day 

This fair land 

Wrested with the Southron band — 

Brothers meeting in fierce fray — 

Then my power 

Gained for aye in Fate's full hour 

Gettysburg and Mobile Bay. 

"Later still, when Japan's braves 
Swarmed the East, 
Crowding to the infernal feast 
Of Death — to glorious graves, 
I won the fight — 

Looking down the frowning height. 
Monarch over hills and waves. 
[82] 



"Wonder not that myriad throats 

Hail me King, 

To my muzzle garlands bring! 

Swelling music for me floats. 

You shall see 

Nations henceforth worship me; 

Fear they all my thundering notes." 

Silent long the Column stood, 

Then at length 

Slowly spoke: "I know your strength, 

Know your might, your power for good; 

Know your pride. 

Vaster than aught else beside ; 

Know full well your fiery mood. 

"You have won by sheer brute force ; 

In your path 

High are piled the sheaves of wrath ; 

Blood and death attend your course. 

O'er the heaps 

Endless gloom her vigil keeps, 

Heaps of mangled man and horse. 

"In the homes where dwelt your prey. 
Ruined homes ! 

Hope nor sunshine ever comes. 
Widows weep the live-long day; 
Children cry; 
Parents sob in agony 
For the one who marched away. 
[83] 



"Yes, I know 3^our mighty power; 

But I know 

I a loftier thought can show. 

Far above your plane I tower ; 

I can teach 

Lessons far beyond your reach, 

Lessons for the weightiest hour. 

"When your bore is choked with rust ; 

When no note 

Issues from your strident throat ; 

When you pass, as pass you must, 

I shall stand, 

Honored in a grateful land, 

Pointing to the God we trust. 

"Little ones will round me play, 

In their joy 

Bringing doll and hoop and toy. 

Whiling thus the hours away. 

They shall learn 

Deeds that live and thoughts that burn, 

Ever in their hearts to stay. 

"Youths and maidens strolling near. 
Pledging vows 

Underneath the spreading boughs. 
Careless of the coming j^ear — 
Trusting youth — 
They shall pledge a higher troth 
When they see me standing here. 
[84] 



"Sires and mothers, too, shall come, 

Heeding well 

All the story I shall tell. 

Even though my lips be dumb ; 

They shall know 

In their hearts the patriot glow 

That shall foster love at home. 

"Aged men, with honored scars, 

Dragging slow 

Trembling limbs, as on they go ; 

Veterans of old-time wars. 

Looking back 

On the years o'er memory's track 

Shall salute the stripes and stars. 

"Thoughts like these shall be my task, 

Lifting hearts 

From these sordid lower parts. 

Till we see calm Reason bask 

In the light 

God gives when we seek the Right 

And from Passion tear the mask." 

Here stand, O Monument, forever stand. 
And let thy grace, 

The beauty of thy form, attract the eye 
And lead the enraptured thought 
To heights of great resolve, 
That souls may trace 
A stronger love of home and native land 
[85] 



And God, who governs all beneath the sky ! 

Here may a later race, 
When we have passed away, be brought 
To muse on noble themes, and taught 
New sense of civic life and patriot pride, 
While they recall 

Those names who heard their country's call 
And without murmur for their country died! 

O Sun ! light up this marble image of our dead ! 
Let thy bright beams illume with grace divine 
The impassive brow, and o'er each feature shed 
A radiance that shall forever shine! 

O Stars! in Heaven's blue vault appearing one 

by one, 
Shine softly down in loving tenderness 
When daylight fades and night comes creeping 

on. 
And touch his lips as with a woman's kiss. 

O Wind I blow gently round this rigid form, 
Nor stir the drooping flag we hold so dear ; 
Right well it floated in the battle-storm. 
Right loyally we pledge devotion here. 

Sun, Stars and Winds ! Ye voiceless tenants 

of the sky. 
To thee we come ; to thee we make our prayer ; 
Receive this emblem of a love that cannot die, 
And thro' all coming years make it your care. 
[86] 



.)iV>V ^^ l^il 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 



NOV 29 lit] 



